


Better Me Than You

by ColtDancer



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Early Partnership, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Post-Star Wars: A New Dawn, gratuitous fluff, post-Gorse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2016-03-31
Packaged: 2018-05-30 06:34:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6412918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColtDancer/pseuds/ColtDancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hera is desperate to get her hands on information, even if it means trekking through unsafe conditions to obtain it.  Her enthusiasm has unfortunate consequences for Kanan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Better Me Than You

**Author's Note:**

> It was only supposed to be ~1,000 words. So here, how about 2,000? Finally! A story to go with lovely art by Melty-Artz over at [Tumblr](http://coltdancer.tumblr.com/post/141996005036/better-me-than-you-pre-rebels-ficlet).

“What were you  _thinking_?” Hera demanded, her voice barely cutting through the wind and whipping snow.

Behind her - no, he’d managed to move beside her - Kanan was hunched in on himself, attempting to shield his core and retain some semblance of heat as they moved.  “I dunno…I was thinking that… that it might be…a good idea…to keep you away…from frozen water.”

Hera opened her mouth to ask just how that went through his head in the split second he’d had to act - damned Imperial droids and their twitchiness - but knew better.  The cold sucked most of her breath away, anyhow, and honestly - she wasn’t angry.  It should have been her; Kanan had warned that the wreckage they were searching had splintered the ice and made it unstable, but she was determined to acquire the data housed within the fallen Imperial satellite.  It should have been without incident, but one of the probe droids had reactivated and gone all “self-destruct” on them.  The explosion, the cavernous maw in the ice, feeling herself shoved powerfully backward toward the bank - it all seemed to happen at once.  The energy of Kanan’s Force-throw had inadvertently put him in her place, and he’d been the one swallowed by the frozen lake.

So no, she was not angry.  She was worried, though.  Their progress had slowed considerably in the last mile across the tundra, and they weren’t so much hiking any more as stumbling like drunken krayt dragons; Kanan had grown a ghastly mix of pale and blue, but he somehow kept going.  He was right; she would never have made it this far if she’d been the one to plunge through the ice.

But Jedi, or not, he was quickly failing.   

And harping back and forth would not improve the situation.  Thankfully, the data cubes they’d procured from the satellite craft were intact, and with any luck they would be long gone from this system before the Empire arrived to retrieve them.  But Chopper had already warned that an Imperial crew was enroute.  Something on those cubes was worthy enough to warrant a rapid response, even for such a remote probe.  

Breath coming in wheezing puffs as they cleared the crest of a large bank, Kanan’s legs suddenly buckled beneath him and he went down, tumbling through the drifts.  Hera shouted his name as she cleared the top, but the dark bulk of something large and looming caught her eye.  The  _Ghost_.  She could have cried.

Hera fumbled with numb, gloved fingers, activating her com to send, “Chopper, power up! We’re in range,”  then plowed down the side of the snow-covered embankment, her face stinging with the onslaught of flying snow.  “Kanan!”

She dropped to her knees beside him, where he seemed content to remain half-buried in the snow.  “Kanan,” she shouted, shoving her goggles atop her head and giving him a good shake.  “Kanan, come on.  We’re almost there.  We have to get out of here!”

Hera peered at him, brushing fresh flakes from his face.  She shook him again, and was rewarded with his groan of protest.  “Come on.  Kanan, you have to  _move_.”

Hera stooped and shoved her shoulder under his arm as Kanan struggled to his feet, pushing forward with the last of her own strength to drag them both toward the ship.  By the time they reached it, gasping and panting, Hera wasn’t sure they’d have the energy to scrabble up the slippery ramp.  Somehow, they made it, collapsing in a wet heap on the cargo hold floor.  Chopper had the good grace to quickly raise the ramp and seal them in, but not before honking indignantly about the mess they were making.

“Never you mind that, Chop,” Hera growled, still trying to catch her breath.  It took a minute or two, but she finally managed to push herself to her hands and knees, in spite of the intense shivering.  “How close is that Imperial intercept crew?  Can we get out of here undetected?”

A series of honks and warbles in her earcone, but given a very narrow window, an affirmative.  The nav computer had already been programmed.  

“Good boy. On my way,” she responded, then thought better of it.  Beside her, Kanan wasn’t moving.  Goddess, was he even breathing?  Panic shot through her and she rolled him onto his back, sighing with relief when he complained - albeit weakly.  She yanked her gloves off with her teeth and flexed her now burning, tingling fingers several times, then tore into the buckles on his gear, grunting and struggling to strip him of the frozen parka and soaked undercoat.  She was shaking, he wasn’t.  There were no smart-ass comments about her undressing him, either.

That was telling.

Chopper - she couldn’t determine whether he was peering over Kanan with concern or opportunistic glee to use his shock-prod - hovered.  “Go ahead and get us moving,” Hera barked, tugging next at Kanan’s coveralls.  “Unless you want to do this?”

The astromech let out a string of offended blats and raspberries, gesturing wildly with his little arms at the same time Kanan let out a decidedly negative yelp.  Chopper took off for the cockpit and Hera smiled down at Kanan.  He stared back at her through slitted eyes.

“You’re mad about me, aren’t you?”

It was so very quiet and he was still ashen, but the bravado was refreshingly Kanan.  She quirked an eyebrow, her smile turning sardonic with,  “Oh,  _ **there**_ you are.”

“Here,” he affirmed with a soggy nod, his eyes drifting closed again.  “M’fine, here…Inside, now. Go ‘n fly.”

“Nope, no…up you go, come on.”

“…Y’want me t’fly?”

“No, you dolt.  We need to get you dry and warm before you do tank on me, okay?  The galley is going to be the best bet right now,” Hera went on, serious again.  She gripped his arms and wrestled him to a seated position.  “Come on, Kanan, walk.”

“Walking.”

“No, you’re not.  You’re still sitting.  Move your legs.  On your feet.”

Kanan gave a beleaguered whine, but he eventually cooperated, forcing his limbs to help carry him to the galley, where he plopped heavily at the dejarik table.  He wasn’t shivering, yet, but it was undoubtedly warmer in here.  She made quick work of filling a tumbler with water and rifling through their beverage supplies for the powdered chocolate, mixing and shoving it into the warming unit before rummaging through the supply closet where she found some old blankets, stocked there by the ship’s previous owner.  

She shook them and piled them atop the table.  “Can you get out of your shirt? We need to remove as much of the wet as we can.”

Kanan blinked sluggishly, looking confused for just a moment, but then nodded.  His movements were stiff and clumsy, and Hera ended up pulling the wet fabric over his head and off his arms, anyway.  She tried not to notice the rather…attractive…color of his skin, the tight line of his muscles, the dusting of hair that was so curious to her…and wrapped the blankets around him.

“There.  You’ll feel better in no time.”

“…Need to warm up…too.”

“I am warming up.  I’m relatively dry; I can change in just a bit.”

A long pause, then Kanan lifted his head drowsily to study her.  “You okay?”

She nodded, and in that moment was struck by how horribly the whole scenario could have turned out.  “Yes, I promise, I’m fine.”

“Y’got the…the…?” Kanan shook his head and beneath the blanket waved his hand in an unhelpfully vague way.

But she understood.  Hera smiled reassuringly and fished the bundles out of the inner pocket of her parka, presenting the data cubes in her opened palm.  

“It was a good idea to replace them with those blanks.  Might buy us some extra time before they realize the originals have been taken,” she murmured appreciatively, patting his arm beneath the covers and adding wryly,  “You’re pretty useful, for ‘just a crewman.’”

Kanan snorted and she rose to retrieve the hot chocolate from the warmer.  When she returned to the table, Kanan had moved enough to clutch the blankets more tightly around himself.  And he was trembling.  A good sign.

She set the mug down in front of him.  “Cough, and swallow for me.” Kanan looked at her, bewildered.  She tapped the warm container.  “So I know you can handle this.”

He did, then, and she was relieved that it sounded dry - if a bit wheezy - rather than wet.  The last thing they needed was for him to contract pneumonia from a lungful of lakewater.

“There we go, that’s good.”  She pointed to the drink.  “Work on this, slow now…I’m going to check our status.  I’ll send Chopper back to monitor you.”

Kanan’s hands, shaking in earnest now, closed awkwardly around the warm cup.  “M’fine.  Go on.” 

Hera reached out to encase his hands with her own before she could stop herself. “I know.  Just…humor me and sit tight.  Concentrate on bringing your body temperature back up.” 

Then she smiled, and when he smiled back, she found it was one of those rare ones - the ones she absolutely would not admit she was growing to like - that reached his eyes and made the corners crinkle just so, that thanked her without saying so.  Even the color of bleached sand, it was…nice.  No, damnit.  That was just the concern ramping up her emotions.  She lingered a moment more, then hurried away.

By the time Hera had checked their trajectory, assured herself (multiple times) that they’d not been pinged by the Empire upon leaving, and taken a cursory glance at the information on the data cubes before uploading it to Fulcrum, she was feeling generally much better.  But, as with any long stint in the cold, there was a lingering chill and fatigue.  The thought of a warm shower, followed by a solid shift of rest during hyperspace travel, was appealing.  She made a note to check their water supply levels and offer the chance to Kanan, first.  It seemed only fair.

She returned to the galley, but was stopped short inside the doorway by what she saw.  Still wrapped heavily in blankets, Kanan was slumped between the table and the seatback cushions, sound asleep.  She must have made a noise of surprise, because Chopper whirred quietly that Kanan’s core temperature was near normal again and that there was nothing concerning to note, then went back to tinkering in the supply closet (sometimes it was best not to ask).  

Hera thanked the astromech softly and went about making herself a cup of the same chocolate drink she’d made Kanan earlier.  She really should wake him, send him to bed, but as she leaned against the counter and sipped at her drink, she didn’t have the heart.  Kanan so rarely just  _slept_  (she ignored the piece of her subconscious asking how she knew that), and he looked done in.  Besides, the crew cabins were chilly.  

Padding across the floor, she reached out to gently pull the blankets up over Kanan’s shoulder; he twitched and his brow furrowed for just a moment before he sighed and relaxed again.  Definitely wiped out.  There was something comfortable, even in this, that would have made her scoff a few months ago.  She wanted to dismiss it, now, but found she couldn’t. 

She decided to curl up in the old battened down reed chair beside the dejarik table with her drink and one of the extra blankets, her gaze still on her partner.  He looked very different, sleeping.   

She shook her head, steam clouding her vision as she blew into the cup to take a sip.  

_Just crew, indeed._


End file.
